


Tracing Constellations (on You)

by Renabe



Series: Renabe's Fair Game Weekend Fics [2]
Category: RWBY
Genre: Camping, Fluff, M/M, Sexual Content, Spice rack, Tendie like chickie nuggie, brat husbands, day 2 starlight, fairgameweekend2020, reading innuendos, silliness and sauce
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:54:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26804686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Renabe/pseuds/Renabe
Summary: Clover’s eyes light up, staring in amazement at the sight above. “Gods, but there really are so many out here, away from the city. It’s breathtaking…”“Sure is,” Qrow murmurs, warm vermilion captured in the way sea glass shines under soft starlight. A gentle huff of a laugh finds him as he fondly watches his husband, so enamoured with the tiny twinkling lights in the sky, probably having no clue just how brightly his own shimmer.
Relationships: Qrow Branwen/Clover Ebi
Series: Renabe's Fair Game Weekend Fics [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1954858
Comments: 10
Kudos: 36





	Tracing Constellations (on You)

**Author's Note:**

> Fair Game Weekend Day 2 - Starlight
> 
> One-shot camping fic. Included in a series for organisation.
> 
> Please enjoy!

“You know, I was worried at first,” Qrow says as they slide poles through tent loops, checking that ends are tucked into corner flaps. At a questioning glance from his husband, he grins. “Worried you’d pack too much in the way of modern comforts.”

Clover raises an eyebrow, an almost offended huff falling from him as they bend poles and lift, raising the tent and securing the last of the corners. “Is the guy who meticulously trims his beard to exactly two centimeters telling me he was worried I would be too high maintenance for camping?” he teases back, helping to adjust the poles so the tent stands evenly, and corners are ready to be staked into the ground.

Qrow sends him a fully offended look, gesturing toward him with the tiny hammer. “First of all, rude. You like how my beard feels against your skin, so you oughtta be grateful I take care of it.” His brat husband is wearing such a satisfied smile, it’s all he can do not to laugh, and so he looks away to hammer a particularly difficult stake into the ground. When all are tightly stuck in place, he stands and brushes himself off.

“And second, since you are so used to having everything you could possibly want at your fingertips, I was concerned how you'd handle roughing it in the woods for a few nights with just a backpack of basic supplies.” He plants hands on his hips, taking a look at the tent to assess their work. Seems sturdy enough.

A hand on his cheek draws his attention to the right, and another follows suit, cupping his face gently. Red flicks curiously to green as Clover breathes, "I _do_ have everything I want at my fingertips. Right here."

“Sap.” So he says, but he’s leaning in first for a kiss, fingers finding a shirt front, giving a tug to urge Clover closer. And he’s utterly fond of the man’s habit of raining affection on him and bringing him to a stop, simply feeling the way words wash over him. A cooling pitter patter against skin, refreshing and sincere as the lips that meet him halfway.

Clover smiles against those lips, indulging in the soft warmth for a few moments, murmurs gently, "We should probably go in and open the windows, roll out our sleeping bags, before we head to the lake with lunch."

"Mm, true."

It is easily a one person job, but he won't say no to a little assistance. Not when they may be able to squeeze in an extra activity along the way.

They unzip the door, drop their shoes and climb inside. It's a small tent, but they only intend to use it to sleep, and they certainly like each other enough to cuddle. The real drawback is that the ceiling is not very high, meaning they have to crouch or kneel inside.

Qrow makes it over to one window, unzipping the cover flap and grousing, "Good thing we remembered to check for rocks before placing the tent. The ground is hard enough on these old knees."

That draws the amused laugh from his husband as he lays out a mattress pad, unrolling the sleeping bags on top. "Thought your back was the problem. Now your knees are going too?"

"Haha, very funny," he scoffs, making his way to the other window. "As I recall, someone else here has worse knees than I do. No names, of course."

Clover nods, conceding the point as he glances at their sleeping bags thoughtfully. He unzips them entirely, looking up as Qrow turns, finished with the last window.

"What's up, lucky charm?"

"Nothing, just," he says as he starts to zip them together, reaches about halfway before handing off the zip to Qrow to finish from the other side, "wondering why we didn't buy a new, larger sleeping bag."

Qrow pulls the zip toward himself, shaking his head. "These'll work just fine. And if we decide we like camping enough to do it more often, then we'll buy a new one. Fair?"

"I think I'm game for regular camping trips if you are."

"If you can say that honestly _after_ this weekend, then sure. But I get the feeling you'll be too exhausted, old man."

"I'm not the one complaining about aches and pains, _old man_ ," Clover says, brow quirked, smile playing on lips.

“I mean, we've already worked pretty hard,” Qrow counters with a grin, crawling over sleeping bags toward Clover in the small space of the tent. He touches a hand to his knee, slides fingers up his thigh. “Setting up camp, pitching the tent, connecting our sleeping bags... I think we deserve a nap. You know, gotta take care of ourselves at our age."

Clover finds that hand, fingertips brushing against its back before trailing up an arm. “True… but you know I can’t sleep before some light reading, lovebird.”

“Good thing you remembered to bring a book, then.”

“Wasn’t planning on finishing it until later, but I could be convinced to read it again.”

“And again?” a wanting sigh as he fiddles with shirt buttons, opening to the first chapter.

“And _again_ ,” Clover punctuates in a low tone, taking those hands in his, pressing a kiss to knuckles before leaning over him, laying him down on the sleeping bag. Perhaps skipping a few pages. But he already knows his favourite parts of the story, is looking forward to them eagerly. 

Qrow grins up at him, drapes arms about his shoulders, fingers playing with brunet strands the introduction of a familiar character. “Sounds like a lot of reading. You must really like this book.”

“I _love_ this book.” Even with its worn binding, he thinks, hand slipping beneath Qrow to trail up his spine. And oh how it arches at his touch, pages open wide for him, and he skims fingers along the words, looking for where he last left off. Presses fingertips against reddened skin above a waistband, his bookmark. 

Qrow tugs him up for a kiss, a flashback to an important scene, tastes the new details on his tongue. Whispers, “If you love it so much, I expect you to read _every_ page. Give each word your full attention.”

Clover hums thoughtfully. “Okay, birdie. Sure hope my bad knees don’t interrupt a few chapters in.”

“If they do, we’ll just have to switch reading positions,” he replies, smirk firmly in place.

“Fair enough.”

And so they start at the beginning, working their way through the entire book, both crying out at the end.

After some not so light reading and a late morning nap, they take their lunch to the nearby lake. Set up on the dock and sit with legs hanging over the side, feet dipping in cool water.

"Mm, these sandwiches are amazing," Clover says between bites, licking sauce that spilled onto his hand before taking a swig of water.

"And I didn't even have to toast them," Qrow teases, taking another bite of his own, enjoying the mix of cured meats with a zesty spread on a thick sourdough bread.

They’d worked up quite the appetite with that reading session, and he is glad he thought to really stuff the sandwiches that morning. Especially as he watches how quickly Clover scarfs his down. He was never a slow eater by any means, always adhering to strict meal times when in the military, but for him to finish his food before Qrow, he must be running on empty.

Qrow on the other hand, was used to quick bites on the road. Sure, he knows when to slow down and properly enjoy a meal from time to time, but it's hard to kick the old habit. He smiles as he chews his last bite, stealing Clover's water bottle to take a few sips as well.

"Still say they would've been better toasted," Clover says, licking his lips.

"We would have had to get a fire going, and someone here was hungry."

He chuckles, takes back his water bottle. "Next time, then."

With a soft laugh of his own, Qrow shakes his head but agrees. Feeling full and content, he rests a hand on his belly as he leans back on the other and breathes deeply. Enjoying the fresh air.

There's movement beside him, and he looks over as Clover takes off his shirt.

"Going for a swim already, pretty charm? Or you just showin’ off for me?"

"Mm, bit of both," he says with a wink as he drops his shirt on the dock and does a few stretches. Maybe Qrow watches a little more intently than necessary, but if his husband wants to show off, who is he to turn away. Clover smiles, appreciating the attention before he jumps from the dock into the water.

“Cloves!” Qrow yells as water splashes him, rolls his eyes in mock annoyance. “Bit childish for an old man,” he taunts when his husband resurfaces. He pretends to wring out his shirt for good measure.

And Clover can only grin as he wades back over, cheeky as he gives Qrow’s ankle a squeeze. “What can I say, you make me wanna be a brat.”

A brat, indeed, Qrow thinks with a raised eyebrow, kicking his free foot in the water and splashing the man in light retaliation. He leans forward, resting an elbow on his knee, chin in the palm of his hand. “You sayin I’m a bad influence, boy scout?”

“The worst,” he murmurs, hands sliding up calves as he pushes his way between legs hanging over the side of the dock. He smiles sweetly up at his husband. “Don’t suppose I could get a kiss, hm?”

“Haha, not a chance,” Qrow laughs, leaning back again. “I’m not falling for that one. Nice try though.” 

“I haven’t the slightest idea what you mean.” Oh, he’s full of it, and they both know it. His eyes are absolutely dancing with mischief as he nuzzles against Qrow’s knee, pressing lips to the inside of his leg.

Qrow reaches forward, brushing fingers through wet brunet strands. “Someone’s got their second wind. Aren’t you glad I suggested that nap?”

Clover snorts a laugh. That suggestion is what wore them out in the first place. Mm, but it was very much worth it. Green eyes drift closed at the feel of nails massaging his scalp, head resting on Qrow’s knee as he enjoys the simple touch. “Gonna put me back to sleep at this rate.”

Mirth spills freely from lips as red eyes crinkle at the corners, staring adoringly at that relaxed face. They really had needed this little trip away from everyday responsibilities, and it couldn’t be more obvious as they unwind by the lake, finally able to just be. And oh, he can’t help but lean down to plant a gentle kiss to a temple.

Seafoam slivers open, and Clover lifts his head to capture those lips with his own. Lazy presses of lips, slow, unhurried. Perfect for a quiet afternoon alone. Fingers curl faintly in wet hair, guiding him closer. Hands holding calves slide up clothed thighs to rest at hips. Clover smiles into another kiss, unable to hide his utter amusement. Silly old crow.

He reaches around Qrow’s middle, and pulls him from his perch.

“C-Clover!”

“That’s my name,” he beams, tilting Qrow back, just enough to feel the water seep into clothes and hair. He won’t get away with this for long, but hearing his husband all but squawk like a bird as he tries to free himself from his hold is so utterly _worth it_. The man levels him with an unamused glare, but those lips are quirking up at the edges.

Qrow knows he absolutely fell for the trap, despite claims that he would not. “And you say I’m the worst. Brat indeed.”

“Yeah… but you like brats.” And he lets him go.

Water splashes as Qrow tries to right himself before slipping and falling completely underwater. Clover covers his mouth, trying not to laugh out loud and failing miserably. Still, he reaches out a hand to help his husband up.

Once Qrow gets his feet securely under himself and emerges from the water, he turns a wicked smirk on his husband. “Think that’s funny, eh,” he challenges, and Clover knows he’s in for it now. He holds his hands up in surrender, but that doesn’t stop Qrow from picking him up and tossing him farther into the water.

A startled yelp barely escapes the man as he hits the surface with a big splash. Qrow huffs, satisfied with his efforts as he looks down at his soaked clothes with a sigh. Good thing they brought a clothesline. There’s a tug on his leg, and before he knows it, he’s pulled under the water again.

The childish play of splashing and tripping each other continues well into the afternoon, until both are exhausted, forced to call a truce. Clothes are hung on the line, sweats pulled from their packs to wear while they start a fire and make chili for dinner. They settle into their usual banter, and before they know it, the chili is gone, and the fire has dimmed to mere embers.

Clover offers to throw more wood into the pit, but Qrow stops him. Pulls him to sit in the grass next to him, and tells him to look up at the night sky. It’s full dark now, and the sky is clear, filled with nothing but stars as far as the eye can see.

Clover’s eyes light up, staring in amazement at the sight above. “Gods, but there really are so many out here, away from the city. It’s breathtaking…”

“Sure is,” Qrow murmurs, warm vermilion captured in the way sea glass shines under soft starlight. A gentle huff of a laugh finds him as he fondly watches his husband, so enamoured with the tiny twinkling lights in the sky, probably having no clue just how brightly his own shimmer. He fiddles absently with a ring on his finger, one that, try as it may to reflect that same hue, it just doesn’t quite catch the light like those eyes do.

“And you call me a sap. You’re not even looking at the stars,” that deep honey voice gently teases, gaze still lingering on the beautiful canopy above. He slips a hand under Qrow’s, lacing fingers as he leans on his shoulder.

“Am too,” he protests amusedly, pressing a light kiss to a cheek, drawing that brilliant gaze his way as lips retreat.

A free hand finds its way to dark locks, urging him back for a proper kiss. Soft, firm, unhurried, insistent. It is hard to describe the balance between gentle and fierce that is Clover’s love, but Qrow meets him eagerly at every turn. Greedily claims what is offered and gives it back just as fervently. One kiss becomes two. Three. Four. Languid motions, lips drawing apart more and more each time they meet. The slightest brush of a tongue, and Qrow closes his mouth with a grin, pulls back.

He tugs laced fingers free and pushes off the ground, climbing onto Clover’s lap. One leg rests on either side of him, pressing gently against hips as a hand slides up to tilt his chin back. “You keep looking up, gorgeous, and let me give you something to sing to the stars.” Lips drag along a smooth jaw, dip down to the column of his neck.

Clover drops his head back as teeth nip briefly at his pulse, striking a match low in his belly. “Thought you were the songbird,” he breathes, even as hands glide teasingly up warm thighs and pull him closer, flush against him. He does as asked, though, and gazes skyward as those lips find just the right spot. There’s a warm rush of air against skin, and he stills in anticipation.

Qrow doesn’t bite, not yet. Instead he ruts hips forward, drags slowly back, then forward against him to draw out a low groan. Waits until he feels the push back against his own arousal before sinking teeth into skin, delighting in the jolt as hips jerk against him.

“Now who’s… skipping pages,” Clover murmurs around the whine that forms in his throat. Lets it loose when that mouth starts to suck a fresh mark. It’s almost hard to focus on the constellations above when very different constellations are being etched so perfectly into skin.

Teeth withdraw carefully, lips leaving a lingering kiss on tender skin. “Not at all. This is the sequel, love.” He draws back to see his work. Something's missing, he thinks, glancing up at the sky.

Oh. Oh, what if he could cover him in stars? What if he could paint the night sky across Clover's whole body? He wants to. He knows it's too ambitious, but he wants to. Red eyes flick back to the face in front of him, wondering how unrealistic it is to try.

Clover drops his gaze to Qrow, curious at the sudden pause. "What is it, pretty bird?"

"Lie down."

He stares, a little caught by the look in those eyes. Places a quick kiss to lips before lying back in the grass. "Am I allowed to watch you, or should I keep looking at dimmer stars?"

Qrow gives him a look, rolling eyes fondly. Not bothering to fight the small smile that forms at sweet words. It is everything he’s grown to expect from his husband, and more, to remind him time and again that he is his brightest star. Even when he’s trying to be sexy. Brat.

"Help me take off your clothes, and you can look wherever you want,” he taunts, cheeky grin finding its way to his lips.

"Right here?"

"You don't wanna?"

He grabs the front of Qrow's shirt, pulls him down for a bruising kiss, murmuring against lips, "Make love to you under the stars? How could I not want that."

Oh, but Qrow is a brat too, and he does not make it an easy task to shed layers, leaning down to nip here and there, making all manner of marks along his neck and shoulders, stomach and chest too, when Clover finally manages to pull his tank top over his head.

“What’s with all the little pecks, birdie,” a soft whine. It’s almost too much, and he threads fingers in feathery hair as that mouth releases another tender bite of skin.

“Tracing stars,” he murmurs against abdominals, brushing his nose along muscle.

And the gentle laugh spills from Clover’s lips as he looks skyward again. Stars, indeed. But he wants more, under the brilliance of this sky, so full of shining stars. “Much as I love the attention… I think I need attention elsewhere.”

Qrow presses against him, looking up at his face as a lip is tugged between teeth, and grins. “Tell me what you need, pretty charm.”

A hand slips from dark hair, trails along his jaw to tilt his chin up. And so he looks up, up at the bright canvas of glittering dots.

“I need to be as full as the sky is with stars.” Green flicks back to the man in his lap, waiting for red to find him. “Will you do that for me, lovebird?”

Qrow takes the hand under his chin in his, presses a kiss to the band that matches his eyes. “Mm, how could I say no to that,” he whispers sweetly, contrasting the fire in rust red eyes.

He’s finished teasing now, and he helps tug off pants before preparing his love for him. Takes his time to make sure he’s ready before settling into place.

Qrow rocks slowly into him, watching fondly as he shudders, gaze cast toward the stars. Fingers clutching blades of grass at his sides as he thrusts back against him, pulling him deeper inside. No, not yet, and he presses warm hands against those hips, holding them down while he sets the pace.

“Qrowww,” the whine spills from lips, needy, unashamed. There is no rush, and he knows it, but it feels _too good_ when he buries himself to the hilt inside him, and he wants to feel that push again. Again. Again. Until he comes completely undone and then again still. As many times as it takes to leave him utterly spent, whimpering that he’s too tired and can’t take anymore. 

A hand brushes back greying brunet strands, stroking hair gently. “I need to make you last, Cloves,” he whispers, all soft affection, laced with the gentle heat. “Gotta make sure every time you think of this night sky, you remember how good it feels.”

Clover grabs that hand in his own, brings it to his mouth to press desperate kisses to fingers, to a shining metal band. Breathes against skin, "Dangerous precedent to set. I'm gonna- nnhh… expect this every time we go camping."

"Good," he says, thumb swiping slowly across a bottom lip, red eyes gazing affectionately at shuttered green that tries to stay open. Tries so hard but each push sends eyelids fluttering as he comes closer and closer to losing himself to the sensation. “That’s an expectation I can meet every time.”

He carefully lowers himself to press their bodies together, to pepper a jaw with soft kisses as he continues languid motions, rolling hips gently, pulling back just shy of forcing out a pleasured moan before gliding farther in on the next push.

Hands release soft grass, bury instead in dark locks and tug on hair until he can plant a firm kiss on lips. “You do more than meet it, darlin’... You feel so good.”

“Even though I haven’t touched you yet,” he teases against lips, hand trailing from a hip to take a hold of him, eliciting a sharp hiss against his mouth. Qrow kisses him sweetly, smile playing on lips as his hand strokes in time with gentle rocking.

Clover groans into that mouth, nipping at a lip. “Thought you wanted to make me last,” he says, not actually caring when finally he can move his hips again. Gives a hard thrust upward that punches a moan from both of them, and Qrow has to find his rhythm again.

He doesn’t mind. He simply strokes a little faster, presses a little deeper. Steals another kiss from swollen lips. “Think by now I know how to read your body.”

And oh, he would laugh were he not so consumed by building tension. Closer, closer, so close with each thrust, pushing hard and deep until white hot pleasure snaps him back, gasping a raw, desperate cry to the sky above. Oh, but the movement doesn’t stop as he rides it out, and the continued pressure draws the plea of a whimper from lips, until a familiar warmth spreads through him and a matching song floods his senses.

Qrow falls onto Clover’s chest, breathing heavily against his shoulder as moans subside. And for a time it’s all they can do to try to catch their breath. Listen to each other’s ragged puffs as they slow, evening out as skittering pulses settle and air finds them. And this is Qrow’s favourite part, feeling the rise and fall of that chest beneath him, listening to a pounding heart as it steadies itself at last. Feeling utterly boneless and tired in the best way. He’s fairly certain Clover feels much the same, enjoys the weight of him on his chest as they both come down from the high.

Qrow slowly lifts his head, seeking those seaglass lights, and smiles when he finds them looking up. They aren’t really looking, still hazy from the high of release. But they do shine, more brilliant than any distant stars. And he gets to bask in them up close.

“Hey,” he drawls, voice deep and soft.

And those eyes find him, along with a lazy smile. “Hey, yourself.”

“How you doing there, starlight?”

Clover blinks, and soft laughter spills from him at the new nickname. He reaches up to brush stray bangs from Qrow’s face, whispering, “I’m over the moon.”

“Well, get back down here so I can kiss you.”

He grins at the demand, leaning in to do just that.

~~

When they finally return to the tent and get dressed for bed, Qrow watches Clover in amusement as he searches through his pack. “What’cha lookin’ for, Cloves?”

“My book,” he groans, “I know it’s in here somewhere.”

Qrow can’t help the snort of laughter at those words. “You already read it twice, aren’t you tired?”

Clover levels him with an unimpressed look before abandoning his search entirely, an idea striking him. “You’re right, I am pretty tired.” He climbs into the sleeping bag with Qrow, smiles sweetly at him. “Almost too tired to do _this_.” And that’s all the warning he gives before fingers find his husband’s side and start tickling him relentlessly.

“C-Cloves, no-!” he protests, scrabbling for those hands to make the gods awful sensation stop. “Is this the thanks I get for reading to you?” Oh but it’s hard to be taken seriously when he’s laughing so helplessly.

The terrible joke has Clover laughing too, and he finally stops the playful assault, opting instead to wrap arms tightly around his husband. Nuzzles a nose as the laughter subsides. “I’d say we’re even today.”

“Dunno, I think you’ve been a bigger brat than usual.” He presses foreheads together, breathes a quiet sigh. “If I weren’t so tired, I’d make you regret tickling me.”

“There’s always tomorrow,” Clover laughs lightly, reaching a hand up to turn off the lantern above their heads. “Let’s get some sleep, then you can exact your revenge in the morning.”

Qrow presses a soft kiss to lips. “Don’t think I won’t.”

He snuggles in closer. “Night, birdie.”

“G’night, starlight.”


End file.
